CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(l\/lonographs) 


1CI\1H 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographies) 


(§1 


Canadian  Inttituta  for  Hiitorlcal  Mlcroraproduction*  /  Inttitut  Canadian  da  microraproductiona  hittoriqua* 


1995 


Ttchniul  ami  Bibliographic  Notn  /  Notas  tachniquas  at  biblioiraphiquat 


Tha  Inttituta  l<ai  anamptad  to  obtain  tha  bait  wifiiwl 
copy  a>ailabla  for  lilmini.  Faaturai  of  tllii  copy  which 
may  ba  bibliographically  unique,  which  may  altar  any 
of  tha  imagat  in  tha  raproduction,  or  which  may 
lignificantly  changa  tha  usual  mathod  of  filming,  ara 
chacliad  balow. 


□  Colourad  covan/ 
Couvartura  da  coulaur 


□  Covars  damaged/ 
( 


D 


J  Couvtrturt  tndomniagii 

Covtri  rtstorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
CouvMturt  rtstaurte  ct/ou  ptiliculia 


□  Cowr  titia  missing/ 
L«  titr*  d«  couvtrturt  manqut 

□  Colourtd  maps/ 
Cartas  giographiquas  an  coulaur 


0 

n 

D 

n 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  da  coulaur  (i.e.  autre  que  blaue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  ct/ou  illustrations  an  coulaur 


D 


Bound  with  other  mattrial/ 
Relii  a  vac  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
atong  interior  margin/ 
La  reliure  serria  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  dc  la 
distorsion  le  long  da  la  marge  int^ieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  eertaincs  pages  blanches  afouttes 
lors  d'unc  restauration  apparaisscnt  dans  la  taxtt, 
mail,  lorique  cela  itait  possible,  ces  pagn  n'oni 
pas  etc  filmies. 


0 


L'Inttitut  a  microfilm*  la  maillaur  a«amplaira  qu'il 
lui  a  M  pouibla  da  la  pre  ;iirar.  Las  ditails  da  cat 
axamplaira  qui  sont  paut-4tra  uniquas  du  point  da  vue 
bibliographiqua,  qui  pauvant  modifier  una  image 
raproduita,  ou  qui  pauvant  exigar  une  modification 
dam  la  methoila  normale  de  f  ilmaga  sont  indiquis 
ci-dassous. 

□  Colourad  pages/ 
Pages  da  coulaur 

□  Pages  damaii^/ 
Pages  andommagias 

□  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Peges  restaurees  et/ou  pelliculfcs 

Q  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  dicolorees,  tacheteas  ou  piquaes 

□  Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ditachies 


r~7|  Showthrough/ 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentairas  tupplimentairai; 


Pagination  Is  as  folio 


[  Transparence 

□  Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Oualita  inagala  de  I'lmprassion 

□  Continuous  pagination/ 
Pagination  continue 

□  Includes  indexletl/ 
Comprend  un  (desi  index 

Title  on  heeder  taken  f rom:  / 
Le  titre  de  I'en-Mte  provient: 

□  Title  page  of  issue/ 
Page  da  titre  de  la  livralton 

□  Caption  of  issue/ 
Titre  da  dipart  de  la  livraison 

□  Masthead/ 
Generiqua  IpcriodiquesI  de  la  livraison 

i  :  p.  [S]-«. 


Thisi 
Cado 

tern  is 
cumei 

films 
It  ait 

datt 
filmi 

ha  red 
eu  ta 

14X 

UCtlO( 

IX  da 

n  ratii 
rMuc 

>  Checked  b 

lion  indiqui 

1SX 

elow/ 
ici-ds 

asous 

Z2X 

26  X 

XX 

_ 

^^^ 

_ 

7 

1 

n 

1 

12X 

16X 

20X 

24X 

7flX 

1?* 

Th*  copy  fllmad  hara  hu  b*«n  raproduead  thanka 
to  iha  ganaroaity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'axamplaira  film*  fut  raproduit  grlea  t  la 
g*n4roiM  da: 

Blbllotheque  natlonale  du  Canada 


Tha  imagat  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
pottibia  considaring  tha  condition  and  iagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  iiaaping  vith  tha 
filming  contract  apacificationa. 


Original  capiat  in  printad  papar  covara  ara  fllmad 
baginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 
aion.  or  tha  back  covar  whan  approprlata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
firat  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 
tion,  and  anding  on  tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illuatratad  impraaaion. 


Laa  Imagaa  luivantai  ont  M  raproduitas  avtc  la 
plua  grand  loin,  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattat*  da  I'axamplaira  film*,  at  an 
conformity  avac  laa  conditiont  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 

Laa  axamplairaa  originaux  dont  la  couvartura  an 
papiar  aat  imprimta  tont  filmte  an  commancant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  larmlnant  toil  par  la 
darniAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'imprataion  ou  d'illuitration.  toit  par  la  tacond 
plat,  aalon  la  caa.  Toua  laa  autrat  anampiairai 
originaux  aont  filmia  an  commancant  par  la 
pramitra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'impraaaion  ou  d'illuatration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darnitra  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 


Tha  laat  racordad  frama  on  aach  microficha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  —^  I  moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  lymbol  V  (moaning  "END"), 
whichavar  appliaa. 


Un  daa  tymbolaa  tuivantt  apparaitra  aur  la 
darniira  imaga  da  chaqua  microficha.  talon  la 
cat:  la  tymbola  ^^aignifia  "A  SUIVRE".  la 
aymbola  ▼  tignifia  "FIN". 


Mapa,  plalaa,  chartt,  ate,  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratiot.  Thoaa  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraly  included  in  ona  axpoaura  ara  filmad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar,  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  at  many  framat  at 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrama  illuatrata  tha 
mathod: 


Laa  cartaa.  planchat,  tablaaux.  ate.  pauvant  itra 
filmtt  i  daa  taux  da  raduction  diffaranit. 
Lortqua  la  documant  att  trap  grand  pour  itra 
raproduit  »n  un  aaul  clich*.  il  att  film*  i  partir 
da  I'angla  tuptriaur  gaucha.  da  gaucha  *  droita. 
at  da  haut  mn  baa.  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imagat  nteataaira.  Lat  diagrammat  tuivantt 
illuatrant  la  mtthoda. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MICtOCOTY   MSOIUTION  TBI  CHAIT 

(ANS!  nnd  ISO  TEST  CHABT  No.  2) 


1.0 

1^12.8 

1^   IM 

^^ 

I.I 

1^ 

1.8 


^1^1^ 


^  APPLIED  IIVMGE     II 

Sy^  1653   Eost   Main   Street 

~..S  Rocheater,   Ne»   York         1*609       USA 

'-as  (716)   ■*B2  -  0300  -  Phone 

^=  (716)   288  -  5989  -  Tax 


u 


THE  PRODIGAL 

^IND  OTHER 
POEMS 


( 


THE 


PRODIGAI 


OTHER  POEMS 


PETER   McARTHUR 


m 


jj 


NEW   YORK 

MITCHELL  KENNERLEY 

MCMVII 


7li,S4() 


Copyright  ,<^07  By  Mitchell  KennerUy 


Thanks  art  extended  to  the  following  periodi- 
cah  for  permission  to  reprint:  Atlantic  Monthly, 
^'"'"l-y.  Harper's  Weekly,  Life,  Munse/s, 
routh,  Companion,  Ainslee's,  The  Smart  Set. 
Indlpendent,  Town  Topics,  and  The  Sun. 


The  Prodigal 
Aspiration 
Life     . 

Earth  born 

The  True  Evangel 

Growth 

Duty   . 

Dreams    . 

Questionings 

Reticence 

Consecration 

Solace 

De  Profundis 

Courage    . 

Summum  Bonum  . 

An  Ode  of  Empire 

The  Ocean  Liner 

A  Confession 

A  Parent's  Plea 

Sugar  Weather 

A  Thaw 

Corn  Planting    . 

Indian  Wind  Song 

Birds  of  Passage 


THE  PROOIGAL 

AND  OTuER 
POEMS 


PACi 

•  '3 

'4 

•  »S 
l6 

•  '7 
i8 

■  '9 

20 

'   21 

22 

•  23 
24 

•  25 
26 

■   27 
28 

32 

33 

34 
55 
37 
38 

39 

41 


THE  PRODIGAL  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

The  End  of  the  Drought  .     ^2 

To  Bernhardt    .  . - 

Shakeipeare ^ 

The  Shaw  Memorial a, 

Heanieate .j 

The  Innocenti 

In  Oblivion  •  .  .         .         ,  a% 

To  the  Birdi -^ 

To  Sponsor!  for  D.  C.  McArthur  .  .52 

To  my  Fashionable  Fiancee  c± 

"All  In" "56 

Dolce  Far  Niente .g 

Man    .......  (yn 

To  D.  A.  MacKellar  .         .         .         61 

Silence  I (j^ 

Silence  II ^^ 

The  Salt  Marshes ^4 


To  My  m/e 


THE  PRODIGAL 

j^  AST  night  the  boy  came  back  to  me  again, 
,         The  laughmg  boy,  all-credulous  of  good- 
Long  lost,  far-wandered  in  the  ways  of  men. 

He  came  and  roused  me  with  an  olden  mood. 
He  came  the  lover  and  enthusiast, 

Shook  off  my  years,  and  with  enlightened  eyes 
Sm.led  at  the  shadow  that  the  world'had  casf 

And  looked  at  hTe  with  all  the  old  surprise, 
And  I.  the  slave  of  patience,  took.him  in. 

mmed  t")hT  ""r  ""'  '^'^  '"■'"  '^^'-'"^  home, 
Thr  lied  w,th  h.s  dreams  of  all  I  yet  may  win- 

Allured  agam  m  golden  paths  to  roam. 

And  now  I  know  life  has  no  greater  joy 
Than,  havmg  lived,  to  be  once  more  a  boy 


['3] 


ASPIRATION 

HOW  should  I  be  the  master  of  my  ways 
When  every  nerve  is  vibrant  to  the  sweep 
Of  dreams  that  fill  the  measure  of  my  days— 

Too  rare  to  lose  and  past  all  power  to  keep. 
How  should  I  know  what  it  were  well  to  do 

When  every  path  has  its  alluring  strain, 
Each  towering  crest  its  world-revealing  view 

Of  realms  for  -him  that  has  the  will  to  reign; 
And  while  I  waver,  lo!  this  earthly  shard. 

Wherein  is  breathed  the  swift  compelling  fire. 
Breaks  with  the  ardor  it  was  shaped  to  guard. 

Yet,  ever  striving,  humbly  I  aspire 
Ere  all  be  spent,  with  reverent  hands  to  light 
A  guiding  star  on  some  hope-kindling  height. 


[14] 


LIFE 

DEAR  God,  I  thank  Thee  for  this  resting  place, 
This  fleshly  temple  where  my  soul  may  dwell. 
And,  like  an  anchorite  within  his  cell. 
Learn  all  Thy  love  and  grow  to  perfect  grace. 
Yet,  while  the  veil  still  hides  me  from  Thy  face. 
Give  me  the  light  to  know  that  all  is  well. 
With  guiding  truth  my  erring  fears  dispel, 
Be  Thou  the  rock  on  which  my  faith  I  base. 
Thy  guest,  not  captive,  to  my  visioned  goal 
I  soar  beyond  the  memory  of  strife. 
Upborn  and  shielded  by  Thy  power  benign: 
Thou  art  the  strength  of  my  unfaltering  soul. 
And  from  the  vantage  of  this  monal  life 
The  freedom  of  the  infinite  is  mine. 


[15] 


EARTHBORN 

UURLED  back,  defeated,  like  a  child  I  sought 

The  loving  shelter  of  my  native  fields, 
Where  Fancy  still  her  magic  sceptre  wields, 
And  still  the  miracles  of  youth  ^ire  wrought 
Twas  here  that  first  my  eager  spirit  caught 
The  rapture  that  relentless  conflict  yields, 
And   scorning  peace  and  the  content  that  shields. 
Took  hfes  wild  way,  unguarded  and  untaught. 
Dear  Mother  Nature,  not  in  vain  we  ask 
Of  thee  for  strength!    The  visioned  victories 
Revive  my  heart,  and  golden  honors  gleam- 
For  here,  once  more,  while  in  thy  love  I  bask 
My  soul  puts  forth  her  rapid  argosies 
To  the  uncharted  ports  of  sumi.,er  dream. 


[I6] 


THE   TRUE  EFANGEL 

D  ECAUSE  that  men  were  deaf,  and  man  to  man 
*-'     I  could  not  speak,  but  inarticulate 

I  Still  felt  the  burden  and  the  urge  of  fate. 

The  strong  compulsion  of  the  perfect  plan. 
From  shrine  to  shrine  with  eager  steps  I  ran 
Hearkening  to  every  tumult  of  debate 
Until  my  weary  soul  was  desolate. 

I  Then  turned  I  to  the  fields  where  life  began; 

I  And  lo!  the  evangel  of  the  seed  has  taught 

I  That  not  through  man  to  God  can  any  rise; 

I  Alone  and  trusting  he  must  lift  his  eyes 

Until  the  light  of  living  truth  oe  caught. 
And  then  will  deeds  with  love  and  patience  fraught 
Through  God  to  man  reveal  life's  high  emprise. 


[17] 


GRO/fTH 

'THE  dumb  earth  yearns  for  the  expressive  seed, 

*       The  fruit  fulfilled  gives  ear  to  her  desire 
And  she  but  c-^scious  of  her  bitter  need, 
In  vernal  beauty  doth  again  aspire. 
The  fruit  perfected  wooes  the  seeing  eye, 
The  eye  demands  it  that  the  body  grow; 
The  soul,  aspiring  to  the  Most  High, 
Demands  the  body  seeking  strength  to  know. 
And  He  that  forged  the  all-embracing  chain 
That  binds  us  to  him  lest  we  fall,  undone. 
What  we  may  bear  of  what  we  seek  to  gain 
Accords  in  love  and  when  the  goal  is  won 
C/  perfect  peace  and  poised  self-control, 
Lo,  God  himself  has  voice  through  such  a  soul  I 


:>8] 


DUTY 

IF  "Yea"  and  "Nay"  were  words  enough  for  Him, 
*     Who  taught  beyond  the  lessons  of  all  teaching, 
With  works  nor  Time  nor  Envy  can  bedim, 

How  vain  the  burden  of  our  foolish  preaching  ? 
We  but  betray  the  spirit's  citadel, 

And  waste  on  idle  air  the  strength  conferred. 
When  life's  high  message  we  essay  to  tell 
In  aught  so  faithless  as  an  uttered  word. 
Deeds  are  the  right  and  only  alphabet 

Wherewith  to  teach  what  all  the  world  should  know; 
But  still  the  tongue  will  evermore  forget. 
And  strive  with  sounds  the  perfect  truth  to  show. 
Yet  ever  onward  we  must  bravely  press 
Till  love  through  life  reveals  iu  loveliness. 


['9] 


DREAMS 

I F  eveiy  thought  shall  weigh  in  the  award, 
1     And  every  dream  as  if  fulfilled  shall  stand, 
Who  may  complain  or  deem  the  justice  hard 
That  heaven  shall  deal  when  his  account  is  scanned  f 
The  dreams  I  shattered  when  with  mortal  power 
I  strove  to  give  them  form  and  worthy  act 
Shall  weigh  against  me  in  that  searching  hour 
For  all  their  promise  in  fulfilment  lacked; 
But  if  upon  the  other  scale  shall  lie 
The  pure,  resplendent  raptures  of  my  youth. 
Of  deeds  pre-visioned,  born  of  purpose  high, 
Undimmed  by  eanh  and  lit  by  living  truth. 
Aspiring  dreams  shall  gloss  what  ill  befel, 
For  he  whose  thoughts  are  pure  hath  builded  well. 


[20] 


QUESTIONINGS 

I    AUGHTER  and  Silence  for  a  sword  and  shield  I 
*-'     O  aching  heart,  what  war  is  this  you  wage  ? 
What  part  have  you  upon  this  furious  field 
Where  mailed  pride  and  reckless  folly  rage  ? 
Though  skilled  your  fencing  in  the  mimic  strife, 
What  IS  Its  triumph  but  a  shallow  race  ? 
What  can  it  stead  you  in  the  lists  of  life 
Where  Envy  levels  at  a  smiling  face  f 
Is  there  no  answer  ?    Then,  if  hope  abide 
Let  still  your  shield  be  guard  to  Peace  or  Pain; 
Kept  virgin  from  the  blazonry  of  pride- 
Free  from  heraldic  boast  or  earthly  stain— 
And  haply  when  this  shadowed  coil  is  done 
Its  field  will  mirror  the  victorious  sun. 


["] 


RETICENCE 

y^E  may  not  babble  unto  alien  can 

The  truth  revealed,  nor  show  to  heedleu  eyes 
The  v..,oned  beauty,  lew  with  .hame  and  tear. 
We  mourn  our  folly-and  with  futile  sigh.. 
For  word,  are  weak,  and  evenr  form  of  .en.e 
Wherewith  m  Time  we  tell  our  hope,  and  need.. 
To  do  anght  i.  to  have  recompenw, 
And  highen  thought  i.  ever  told  in  deeds; 
And  He,  upon  whce  mighty  arm  we  lean, 
I»  .ilent,  .ave  in  work,  of  love  and  power- 
Mow  Merciful,  enthroned  in  the  Unseen, 
He  tnes  yet  shields  us  in  our  mortal  hour. 

So  faint  not  thou,  for  He  who  gave  the  will 
The  strength  will  give,  and  will  Himself  fulfil. 


[a»J 


CONSECRATION 

I T  ii  no  bondage  to  be  free  to  give 

*  Our  .11  to  Him  who  iirit  lo  freely  gave, 

That  in  hit  living  we  may  ever  live; 

For,  lofing  all,  the  all  we  lose  we  save. 
It  IS  not  folly  to  become  so  wise 

That  earthly  wisdom  shall  be  known  a  snare 
Nor  are  they  blind  who  have  the  light  to  rise    ' 

Where  science  stumbles  in  its  dark  despair. 
I  he  seed  corrupted  in  the  humid  soil 

Sends  yet  its  flower  to  the  bewildering  sun: 
Strong  without  will  and  perfect  without  toil. 
Helpless  yet  doing  all  that  may  be  done' 
So  we,  through  God.  though  doing  naught,  do  all, 
«or  grope  in  darkness  nor  in  weakness  fall 


[23] 


SOLACE 

■^^  HEN  friend!  foriake  and  fortune  in  detpite 
.  Thy  rich  bounty  itripi  me  to  the  wind, 
With  eye  undimmed  I  mark  their  faithieii  flight 
Because  in  Thee  a  refuge  itill  I  find. 
To  them  Thy  love  I  may  not  tell  nor  teach 
Lett  they  bemock  not  me.  but  Thee  through  me; 
What  Thou  dost  give  I  may  not  give  to  speech 
Because  in  deeds  my  speech  must  ever  be. 
O  let  me  live  so  that  my  life  will  show 
That  I  have  treasure  that  they  know  not  of, 
So  if  throu,»h  envy  they  would  seek  to  know 
And  rob  my  secret  they  will  learn  Thy  love: 
For  thus  the  glory  will  be  ever  Thine 
And  the  reward  of  faithful  service  mine. 


[h] 


DE  PROFUNDIS 

NOT  yet  are  deedi  fruition  of  my  thought, 
Nor  if  thii  body  lymbol  of  my  loul, 
For  evil  ever  in  thii  life  ii  wrought 
That  thunt  the  will  and  iti  divine  control. 
Surely  I  ihall  not  be  forever  weak, 
Halting  and  Mumbling  on  the  choien  way. 
Blinded  by  the  pure  and  perfect  light  I  leek 
Upon  the  threshold  of  eternal  day. 
I  do  not  mourn  diicredit  to  my  fame 
Wb--  smile  at  Time  and  his  confining  shores; 
Tis  this  provokes  the  burning  blush  of  shame: 
The  flesh  still  grovels  though  the  spirit  soars — 
But  my  heart's  anguish  who  can  understand, 
Or  stay  my  folly  with  a  guiding  hand  ? 


lit 


[25] 


COUILiG£ 


[a6] 


SUMMVM  BONUM 

LJ  OW  blest  is  he  that  can  but  love  and  do 

And  has  no  skill  of  speech  nor  trick  of  art 
Wherewith  to  tell  what  faith  approveth  true 
And  show  for  fame  the  treasures  of  his  heart. 
When  wisely  weak  upon  the  path  of  duty 
Divine  accord  hath  made  his  footing  sure 
With  humble  deeds  he  builds  his  life  to  beauty, 
Strong  to  achieve  and  patient  to  endure. 
But  they  that  in  the  market-place  we  meet, 
Each  with  his  trumpet  and  his  noisy  faction. 
Are  leaky  vessels,  pouring  on  the  street 
The  truth  they  know  ere  it  hath  known  its  action. 
Yet  which  think  ye,  in  His  benign  regard, 
Or  words  or  deeds  shall  merit  th  ;  reward  ? 


[27] 


^N  ODE  OF  EMPIRE 


Of  c  •      !    .  °f  "nmemorial  pride? 

oJrf'^-d  heroic  wars? 

Or^anHoodyai^HanVrju^-^ 

Bntanma  the  just  and  strong?   ^^' 
O  heart  defrauded,  what  is  hereto  cherish? 

While  suii:  Cr"d  cT :;  t'  '^"■''"  '•"■■'''' 

Bntannia'ssonsacrl-ratrr'"^ 

And  they  shall  answer  scorn  for  scorn- 
Nor  long  shall  fools  their  youth  der^^e 
Sons  ofthe  proud  are  born  to  pride  " 


[28] 


AN  ODE  OF  EMPIRE 


II. 


"O,  for  an  hour  of  the  ampler  stainless  spaces 

That  breathe  the  health  of  nations,  where  the  sun 
Spreads  his  wide  tent  upon  the  h.ilowed  places 
That  toil's  •  ng  battle  from  the  waste  has  won. 

Give  me  my  birthland,  still  unknown  to  story, 
Dearer  than  dream  remembered  from  afar. 

Where  love  and  plenty  yield  a  golden  glory, ' 
That  shames  the  cruel  barren  pomp  of  war. 

And  O  ye  spirits  of  that  world  unsung, 
That  serve  the  god  of  solitude,  once  more 

Send  me  the  vision  though  with  faltering  tongue 
I  voice  your  music  on  a  friendless  shore. 

Strike  your  wide  harp  and  to  .Eolian  numbers 
Marshal  the  legions  of  the  patient  dead 
From  noteless  fields  whereon  their  lives  were  sped, 

Where  harvest  winds  and  birdsong  lull  their  slumbers- 
Call  them  again  that  men  may  see 
Heroes  of  bloodless  victory; 
May  see  and  learn  to  love  and  bless 
The  silent  vanguard  of  the  wilderness." 


[29] 


f       ' 


^N  ODE  OF  EMPIRE 
III. 

Dru^^andsai„.a„dt.Vof,h.vaV^ 
The  choral  music  of  prophet,-,  song. 


[30] 


AN  ODE  OF  EMPIRE 


IV. 

Fool,  to  be  wroth  with  but  a  noteless  day 

To  heed  its  spawn  or  have  their  scorn  in  mind, 
I  he  dead  are  all  imperial  and  their  sway 
Not  islanded  and  to  no  shore  confined. 
Once  more  my  soul  puts  out  to  ports  of  daring 

vV.th  all  the  lordly  comrades  of  my  choice. 
The  soanng  wind  is  master  of  our  faring 

The  sea's  wide  freedom  bids  our  hearts  rejoice 
I'ar  as  the  day  span  our  adventure  urges 

A  dateless  voyage  through  the  reach  of  time, 
Ihe  past  goes  down  behind  oblivious  surges, 

The  future  rises  with  a  dawn  sublime 
Fronting  the  world  with  calm  and  level  vision. 
New  sons  of  empire,  heirs  to  all  its  pride, 

Smile  back  their  answer  to  a  dull  derision, 
Servmg  and  building  where  their  fathers  died 
Theirs  .s  the  strength  and  not  the  boastful  seeming, 
Theirs  ,s  the  deed  and  not  the  foolish  dreaming. 
Theirs  IS  the  harvest  of  life's  proudest  pages. 
And  theirs  the  empire  that  shall  awe  the  ages. 

London,  Eo^aod,  1904. 


if 

rf 


[3'] 


THE  OCEAN  LINER 


r    IKE  some  bewildered  monster  of  the  deep 

The  busthng  harbor  craft  about  her  creep 

Anon  she  feels  her  iron  pulses  leap 
And  symbol  of  the  age's  mastering  pride 
Looks  out  to  where  the  ocean  stretches  wide. 

Scorning  the  fears  that  in  its  mystery  sleep. 

All  day  with  headlong  and  undoubting  haste, 
And  all  the  mght  upon  her  path  she  flames 

L.ke  some  weird  shape  from  olden  errantry; 
And  when  some  wafted  wanderer  of  the  waste 
A  storm-worn  pennant  dips  afar,  proclaims 
With  raucous  voice  her  strong  supremacy. 


[.?2] 


■«,_- 


h«Sta< 


^   CONFESSION 

r\EAR  little  boy,  with  wondering  eyes 
^     That  for  the  light  of  knowledge  yearn, 
Who  have  such  faith  that  I  am  wise 

And  know  the  things  that  you  would  learn 
Though  oft  I  shake  my  head  and  smile 

To  hear  your  childish  questions  flow, 
I  must  not  meet  your  faith  with  guile; 

I  cannot  tell,  I  do  not  know. 

Dear  little  boy  with  eager  heart. 

Forever  on  the  quest  of  truth, 
Your  riddles  oft  are  past  my  art 

To  answer  to  your  tender  youth. 
But  some  day  you  will  understand 

The  things  that  now  I  cannot  say. 
When  life  shall  take  you  by  the  hand 

And  lead  you  on  its  wondrous  way. 

Dear  little  boy  with  hand  in  mine. 

Together  through  the  world  we  fare, 
Where  much  that  I  would  fain  divine  ' 

I  have  not  yet  the  strength  to  bear. 
Like  you  with  riddling  words  I  ask. 

Like  you  I  hold  another  hand, 
And  haply  when  I  do  my  task,   ' 

I,  too,  shall  understand. 
[33] 


•     j 


MM 


'iU 
fi': 

I 


A  PARENT'S  PLEA 

I^Y  little  boy  is  eight  years  old, 
*  '' *  He  goes  to  school  each  day; 
He  doesn't  mind  the  tasks  they  set- 

They  seem  to  him  but  play. 
He  heads  his  class  at  raffia  work, 

And  also  takes  the  lead 
At  making  dinky  paper  boats— 

But  I  wish  that  he  could  read. 

They  teach  him  physiology. 

And,  O,  it  chills  our  hearts 
To  hear  our  prattling  innocent 

Mix  up  his  inward  parts. 
He  also  learns  astronomy 

And  names  the  stars  by  night— 
Of  course  he's  very  up-to-date. 

But  I  wish  that  he  could  write. 

They  teach  him  things  botanical, 

They  teach  him  how  to  draw. 
He  babbles  of  mythology 

And  gravitation's  law; 
And  the  discoveries  of  science 

With  him  are  quite  a  fad. 
They  tell  me  he's  a  clever  boy, 

But  I  wish  that  he  could  add. 
[34] 


t 


SUG^R   fFEATHER 

\A7HEN  inow-ballt  pack  on  the  horses'  hoofs 

"  "      And  the  wind  from  the  south  blows  warm, 
When  the  cattle  stand  where  the  sunbeams  beat 

And  the  noon  has  a  dreamy  charm, 
When  icicles  crash  from  the  dripping  eaves 

And  the  furrows  peep  black  through  the  snow. 
Then  I  hurry  away  to  the  sugar  bush. 

For  the  sap  will  run,  I  know. 

With  auger  and  axe  and  spile  and  trough 

To  each  tree  a  visit  I  pay. 
And  every  boy  in  the  country-side 

Is  eager  to  help  to-day. 
We  roll  the  backlogs  into  their  place. 

And  the  kettles  between  them  swing. 
Then  gather  the  wood  for  the  roaring  fire 

And  the  sap  in  pailfuls  bring. 

A  fig  for  your  arches  and  modern  ways, 

A  fig  for  your  sheet-iron  pan, 
I  like  the  smoky  old  k— ties  best 

And  I  stick  to  the  good  old  plan; 
We're  going  to  make  sugar  and  taffy  to-night 

On  the  swing  pole  under  the  tree, 
And  the  girls  and  the  boys  for  miles  around 

Are  all  sworn  friends  to  me. 
[35] 


SUGAR   LEATHER 

The  hem  are  cackling  again  in  the  bam, 

And  the  cattle  beginning  to  bawl, 
And  neighbor.,  who  long  have  been  acting  cool. 

Now  make  a  forgiving  call; 
For  there',  no  love.fea.t  like  a  tafFy  pull 

With  It.  hearty  and  .ticky  fun. 
And  I  know  the  whole  world  i,  at  peace  with  me. 

for  the  .ap  ha.  commenced  to  run. 


I 


[36] 


A  THAW 


I 


T^HE  farm-houic  fire  is  dull  and  black, 

The  trailing  imoke  rolls  white  and  low 
Along  the  fields  till  by  the  wood 

It  banks  and  floats  unshaken,  slow; 
The  scattering  sounds  seem  near  and  loud, 

The  rising  sun  is  clear  and  white, 
And  in  the  air  a  mystery  stirs 

Of  wintry  hosts  in  coward  flight. 

Anon  the  south-wind  breathes  across 

The  frozen  earth  its  bonds  to  break. 
Till  at  the  call  of  life  returned 

It  softly  stirs  but  half  awake. 
The  cattle  clamor  in  their  stalls, 

The  house-dog  barks,  he  knows  not  why, 
The  cock  crows  by  the  stable  door. 

The  snow-birds,  sombre-hued,  go  by. 

The  busy  housewife  on  the  snow 

To  bleach  lays  out  her  linen  store. 
And  scolds  because  with  careless  feet 

The  children  track  the  spotless  floor. 
With  nightfall  comes  the  slow  warm  rain. 

The  purl  of  waters  fills  the  air. 
And  save  where  roll  the  gleaming  drifts 

The  fields  lie  sullen,  black  and  bare. 
[37] 


CORN.PLANTING 


'THE  earth  ..awake  and  the  bird,  have  come. 

*       There  ..  hfe  in  the  beat  of  the  breeze. 
And  the  ba,.wood  top.  are  alive  with  the  hum 

And  the  fla.h  of  the  hungry  bee.; 
The  frog,  in  the  .wale  in  concert  croak. 

And  the  glow  of  the  .pring  i.  here. 
For  the  bur.ting  leave,  on  the  rough  old  oak 

Are  a.  big  a.  a  red  .quirrel'.  ear. 

From  the  ridge-pole  dry  the  corn  we  pluck 

Ear.  ripe  and  yellow  and  .ound. 
That  were  saved  apart,  with  a  red  for  luck 

The  be.t  that  the  hu.ker.  found; 
We  will  .hell  them  now,  for  the  Indian  folk 

Say,    Plant  your  com  without  fear 
When  the  bursting  leave,  on  the  rough  old  oak 
Are  as  big  as  a  red  .quirrel'.  ear." 

No  crow  will  pull  and  no  frost  will  blight 

Nor  grub  cut  the  tender  sprout 
No  rust  will  burn  and  no  leaves  turn  white 
But  the  stalks  will  be  tall  and  stout;        ' 
And  never  a  weed  will  have  power  to  choke. 

Ur  blasting  wind  to  sear. 
The  com  that  we  plant  when  the  leaves  of  the  oak 
Are  as  big  as  a  red  squirrel's  ear. 
[38] 


(•9    , 


AN  INDIAN   iriND  SONG 

I  "HE  wolf  of  the  winter  wind  it  iwift, 

*       And  heart!  are  (till  and  cheeki  are  pale, 
When  we  hear  hi>  howl  in  the  ghostly  drift, 

At  he  rushes  past  on  a  phantom  trail; 
And  all  the  night  we  huddle  and  fear, 

For  we  know  that  his  path  is  the  path  of  Deatl,, 
And  the  flames  burn  low,  when  his  steps  are  r.ear. 

And  the  dim  hut  reeks  with  his  grave-cold  breath. 

The  fawn  of  the  wind  of  the  spring  is  shy. 

Her  light  feet  rustle  the  sere,  white  grass. 
The  trees  are  roused  as  she  races  by, 

In  the  pattering  rain  we  hear  her  pass; 
And  the  bow  unstrung  we  cast  aside. 

While  we  winnow  the  golden,  hoarded  maize. 
And  the  earth  awakes  with  a  thrill  of  pride 

To  deck  her  beauty  for  festal  days. 

The  hawk  of  the  summer  wind  is  proud. 

She  circles  high  at  the  throne  of  the  sun; 
When  the  storm  is  fierce  her  scream  is  loud. 

And  the  scorching  glance  of  her  eye  we  shun; 
And  oftentimes,  when  the  sun  is  bright, 

A  silence  falls  on  the  choirs  of  song, 
And  the  partridge  shrinks  in  a  wild  affright, 

Where  a  searching  shadow  swings  along. 
[39] 


M  i' 


AN  INDIAN   fyiND  SONG 

The  hound  of  the  autumn  wind  is  slow, 
He  loves  to  bask  in  the  heat  and  sleep, 
When  the  sun  through  the  drowsy  haze  bends  low 

And  frosts  from  the  hills  through  the  starlight  creep; 
B>.c  oftentimes  he  starts  in  his  dreams, 

When  the  howl  of  the  winter  wolf  draws  nigh. 
Then  lazily  rolls  in  the  gold-warm  beams, 

While  the  flocking  birds  to  the  south  drift  by. 


[40] 


BIRDS   OF  1.1SSJGK 

AA/HEN  the  maples  flame  with  crJmson 

^  »        And  the  nights  are  still  with  frost, 
Ere  the  summer's  luring  beauty 

Is  in  autumn  glory  lost, 
Through  the  marshes  and  the  forests 

An  imperious  summons  flies. 
And  from  all  the  dreaming  north-land 

The  wild  birds  flock  and  rise. 

From  streams  no  oar  hath  rippled 

And  lakes  that  waft  no  sail, 
From  reaches  vast  and  lonely 

That  know  no  hunter's  trail, 
The  clamor  of  their  calling 

And  the  whistling  of  their  flight 
Fill  all  the  day  with  marvel, 

And  with  mystery,  the  night. 

As  ebb  along  the  ocean 

The  great  obedient  tides. 
So  wave  on  wave  they  journey 

Where  an  ancient  wisdom  guides; 
A-through  the  haze  of  autumn 

They  vanish  down  the  wind, 
With  the  summer  world  before  them 

And  the  crowding  storms  behind. 
[41] 


.J 


"11 


THE  END  OF   THE  DROUGHT 

I    AST  night  we  marked  the  twinkling  stars, 
*-'     This  morn  no  dew  revived  the  grass, 
And  oft  across  the  parching  fields 

We  see  the  dusty  eddies  pass; 
The  eager  hawk  forgets  to  swing 

And  scream  across  the  burning  sky, 
And  from  the  oak's  slow-dying  crest 

Sends  forth  a  strange  and  plaintive  cry. 

The  geese  on  unaccustomed  wings 

Flap  wildly  in  ungainly  flight, 
The  peacock's  fierce  defiant  scream 

Scatters  the  fowls  in  wild  affright. 
The  crows  are  barking  in  the  woods. 

The  maple  leaves  their  silver  show, 
The  cattle  sniff  the  coming  storm. 

Then  toss  their  heads  and  softly  low. 

And  now  along  the  hazy  west 

The  swiftly  building  clouds  uprear; 
High  overhead  the  winds  are  loud, 

The  thunder  rolls  and  grumbles  near; 
The  housewife  trims  the  leaky  eaves. 

The  farmer  frets  of  lodging  grain. 
Till  all  the  world,  rejoicing,  drinks 

The  long-denied,  long-prayed-for  rain. 
[42] 


TO  BERNHARDT 

/^F  all  that  felt  thy  spell  I  envied  one, 
^^     A  youth  whose  sightless  eyes  were  dimly  turned 
Where  Tosca's  soul  with  breathless  passion  burned. 
Or  thrilled  with  fury,  agonized,  undone. 

He  shrank,  as  dazzled  by  the  gorgeous  sun, 
When  from  melodious  words  her  love  he  learned, 
And  purest  faith  such  rapture  never  earned 

As  his  swift  spirit  from  the  darkness  won. 

But  when  the  torture  of  a  lover's  wrongs 
Roused  all  the  fierceness  of  her  fruitless  rage. 
He  wrung  his  helpless  hands  with  many  a  moan. 
Ah,  queen  of  passion!  not  to  cheering  throngs 
You  played  that  hour,  but  on  a  visioned  stage. 
Past  mortal  art,  to  one  blind  youth  alone. 


11 


[43] 


SHAKESPEARE 

I  MAY  not  tell  what  hidden  springs  I  find 
Of  living  beauty  in  this  deathless  page 
Lest  the  dull  world,  that  chooses  to  be  blind 
Mock  me  to  shame  or  lash  me  in  its  rage. 
Alas  for  me  that  am  a  thing  of  dreams 
Without  the  skill  to  show  where  others  shine- 
Because  I  hold  their  truth  a  thing  that  seems 
While  worse  than  seeming  seems  all  truth  of  mine. 
And  yet  let  others  on  his  music  dote, 
Or  burnish  every  line  with  housewife  care, 
With  glutton  learning  get  his  words  by  rote 
And  fail  to  find  the  spirit  prisoned  there! 

For  while  I  read,  as  thrilled  by  fire  I  start 
To  feel  the  pulsing  of  the  poet's  heart. 


if 


[44] 


THE   SHAfF  MEMORIAL 

{As  it  appeared  during  a  snowstorm.) 
I  'HE  chiselled  fineness  we  can  but  surmise; 
*       All  that  is  delicate  in  form  and  mould 
To-day  has  vanished  under  fold  on  fold 
Of  crystal  whiteness  that  upon  it  lies. 
But  still  against  the  storm  with  blinded  eyes 
The  warriors  lean,  invincible  and  bold, 
Like  some  stem  legion,  in  Cimmerian  cold 
By  Death  transfigured,  on  a  high  emprise. 

And  so  methinks  heroic  deeds  will  show. 
Graved  on  the  tablets  of  Eternity- 
Blurred  by  Oblivion,  but  instinct  with  power- 
Till  God's  rewarding  light  shall  strongly  glow 
And  the  benign,  all-seeing  eye  shall  see 
The  unclouded  beauty  of  their  amplest  hour. 


i    \\ 


[45] 


HEARTSEASE 

IN  some  strange  way  God  understands 

Her  dreaming  lips  were  fondly  pressed. 
The  playful  touch  of  childish  hands 
Her  wan  cheek  lingeringly  caressed. 

With  joy  she  woke,  but  to  her  heart 
A  grief  of  loss  the  waking  gave; 

She  rose  to  live  her  lonely  part— 
.'i  simple  woman  true  and  brave. 

And  all  the  day  she  softly  sung 
Low  crooning  airs  that  mothers  sing, 

For  to  her  weaty  heart  there  clung 
The  peace  that  childish  kisses  bring. 


f46] 


THE  INNOCENTS 

TO  make  perfect  the  heaven  of  mothers 
The  little  children  die, 
For  what  care  they  for  the  praise  of  God 
Who  have  sung  a  lullaby  ? 

The  arms  that  have  ached  with  nursing 
Would  ache  with  their  emptiness 

Were  there  no  little  children 
To  fondle  and  caress. 


And  while  the  saints  and  angels 
Sing  loud  in  adoring  throngs, 

God  hears  the  mothers  and  children 
Singing  their  crooning  songs. 


hi 


[47] 


i  ! 


IN  OBLIVION 

pOME,  friend,  there'sgoing  to  be  a  merry  meeting 

A  .    r     ".     '  P'"^-    ^''^  "■"'"  *«'"  throw  aside. 
And  after  chaff  and  chat  and  friendly  greeting 

Our  glasses  fill  and  all,  like  cronies  tried, 
Drmlc  draughts  whose  richness  was  so  devil-cheating 

The  ancients  drank  until  their  flasks  were  dried. 
Then  lost  the  art  of  making  more  such  wine; 
And  we'll  on  long-forgotten  viands  dine. 

"Who  will  be  there  ?"  you  ask.     Why,  you  and  I 

And  all  good  fellows  who  were  never  great; 
No  warrior  there  will  roll  commanding  eye; 

No  statesman  weary  with  affairs  of  weight; 
No  prosy  sage  to  proselyte  will  try; 

No  bard  will  drone;  no  orator  will  prate; 
To  pine  in  pompous  glory  they  have  gone, 
But  we'll  be  merry  in  Oblivion. 

The  watchword  of  that  banquet  hall's  "Forgotten  " 

And  if  forgotten,  why,  we  will  forget 
Our  foolish  dreams,  the  mocking  goals  we  sought  in 

Ihe  days  when  hope  could  lure  and  failure  fret; 
The  weary  days  when  all  our  souls  were  caught  in 

The  snare  of  life  that  like  a  tangling  net 
Holds  us  in  agony  and  durance  till 
The  spoiler  stretches  forth  his  hand  to  kill 
[48] 


IN  OB  LI  HON 

Methinks  that  there,  my  friend,  both  you  and  I 

Can  fleet  away  ztemity  content; 
No  curious  fool  into  our  lives  can  pry 

And  moralize  on  how  our  days  were  spent; 
And  soon,  how  soon!    the  names  that  flare  on  high 

Will  wane  and  with  the  closing  night  be  blent; 
For  while  we  revel  in  Oblivion 
The  great  themselves  must  join  us  one  by  one. 


[+9] 


TO  THE  BIRDS 

LIOW  dare  you  ling  tuch  cheerful  notet  ? 

*  '     You  (how  a  woful  lack  of  taite; 
How  dare  you  pour  from  happy  throatt 
Such  merry  longs  with  rapttred  haste, 
While  all  our  poeti  wail  and  weep, 
And  readers  sob  themselves  to  sleep  ? 

Tis  clear  to  me,  you've  never  read 
The  turgid  tomes  that  Ibsen  writes. 

Nor  mourned  with  Tolstoi  virtue  dead, 
Nor  over  Howells  pored  o'  nights: 

For  you  are  glad  with  all  your  power;   • 

For  shame  I    Go  study  Schopenhauer. 

You  never  sing  save  when  you  feel 

The  ecsficy  of  thoughtless  joy; 
All  silent  through  the  boughs  you  steal 

When  storms  or  fears  or  pains  annoy; 
With  bards  'tis  quite  a  different  thing. 
The  more  they  ache  the  more  they  sing. 

All  happiness  they  sadly  shirk. 
And  from  all  pleasure  hold  aloof. 

And  are  so  tearful  when  they  work 
They  write  on  paper  waterproof, 

And  on  each  page  express  a  yearn 

To  fill  a  cinerary  urn. 

[50] 


TO  THE  BIRDS 

Go,  link  birdf,  it  give»  me  pain 
To  hear  your  happy  melodiei. 

My  plaudits  you  can  never  gain 
With  old  and  worn-out  tunes  like  these; 

More  up-to-date  your  songs  must  be 

Ere  you  can  merit  praise  from  roe. 


[51] 


TO  THE  SPONSORS 


FOR 

DANIEL  CARMAN  McARTHUR, 

Baptized  January  ad,  1898. 
Y^  hardy  folk  who  boldly  stand 

*       Between  this  boy  and  sin, 
I  trust  you  quite  appreciate 

The  fix  that  you  are  in; 
For  when  the  threshold  of  the  church 

Was  crossed,  he  raised  a  roar; 
Hereditary  cussedness 

Just  oozed  from  every  pore. 

He  kicked  at  all  the  promises. 

He  howled  at  every  prayer, 
And  when  the  water  touched  him 

He  raised  the  roof  for  fair; 
But  when  the  Mayor  and  the  Priest, 

Your  proxies,  by  the  way. 
Renounced  the  devil  and  his  works 

He  stopped  and  smiled,  they  say. 

Now  tell  us,  pray,  for  that's  your  task, 

Just  when  we  should  begin 
To  pound  his  father's  failings  out. 

His  mother's  virtues  in : 


TO  THE  SPONSORS 

Yet  in  a  work  to  good  and  great 

Perhapt  I  might  suggest 
That  to  divide  the  labor 

In  this  way  would  be  best: 

Let  Carman  teach  the  Gospels, 

And  Smith  expound  the  Law, 
Let  Clara  to  the  Catechism 

His  soul  devoutly  draw; 
And  I  doubt  not  that  he'll  yet  grow  up 

To  be  a  worthy  man, 
A  credit  to  his  country 

And  an  honor  to  his  clan. 

Nmuu-oktri-Laii, 
Juuu7  Stcond,  1I98. 


[53  1 


TO  Mr  FASHIONABLE   FIANCEE 

[  SOMETIMES  think  it  would  be  sweet 

If  we  were  like  the  olden  lovers— 
The  simple-hearted  ones  we  meet 
In  musty  books  with  vellum  covers. 

For  lovers  in  those  times  were  blest, 
Or  else  our  poets  all  are  lying, 

And  if  fate  crossed  them  in  their  quest 
They  had  most  charming  ways  of  dying. 

But  you  are  not  a  shepherdess 
With  woolen  frock  and  linen  wimple, 

And  if  you  were  I'd  love  you  less, 
I  couldn't  kiss  a  swarthy  dimple. 

And  I  am  not  a  woodsman  wight, 
Nor  yet  a  leather-jerkined  yeoman. 

And  I  am  glad  I'm  not  a  knight 
With  many  a  boiler-plated  foeman. 

Yet  though  for  lovers  of  those  days 

I  have  poetic  predilections. 
To  wooing  in  their  artless  ways 

I  own  there  are  a  few  objections. 

A  crown  of  flowers  your  head  might  grace, 
But  it  would  spoil  your  frizzled  tresses  ' 
[5+] 


TO  Mr  FASHIONABLE  FIANCEE 

And  burrs  would  hardly  look  in  place 
Upon  your  tailor-fashioned  dresses. 

And  I'd  not  care  to  gather  haws 

And  sit  in  thorny  shades  to  chew  them. 
And  who  would  pipe  on  oaten  straws 

When  he  might  suck  mint-juleps  through  themi 
In  sooth,  we're  better  as  we  are: 

Your  gravest  task  to  baffle  freckles, 
And  mine  to  keep  all  care  afar 
And  work  for  the  elusive  shek^^ls. 


[55] 


"ALL  INI" 


"I'm  all  m\"—Bob  Fitxsimmons 
M  OT  on  your  life,  Bob;  not  on  your  lifel 
'■  "    The  Muse  salutes  you! 
And  if  there  still  be  vinue  left  in  catgut, 
In  brass  or  wood,  she'll  sound  a  stave  that's  worthy 
The  squarest,  hardest  hitting  slugger  that  ever  pawed 

the  sawdust! 
The  man  with  the  wallop! 
"All  in!" 
Not  on  your  life! 
Your  place  is  v«th  the  veteran  heroes,  with  the  elder 

statesmen. 
Another  may  wear  your  laurels,  but  cannot  blur  your 

record! 
Hero  of  twenty  score  hard-fought  battles. 
An  in-fighter  who  gave  and  took  with  a  joyous  fero- 
city! 
Who  fought  manfully  and  as  manfully  lost! 
Move  up  there,  you  Immortals! 
Make  room  for  a  gladiator— not  for  a  grafter! 
Here  is  a  tall  fellow  of  his  hands-whose  hands  are 

clean! 
A  rough-jointed,  red-headed,  slant-browed  troglodyte! 
Such  a  one  as  might  have  wielded  the  cestus 
Before  applauding  Rome! 
Make  room,  I  say! 

[56] 


t 


"ALL  INI" 

While  we  who  have  roared  and  catcalled  by  the  ring- 
side, 
Whooped,  yelled,  howled,  and  trampled  on  our  hats 
As  he  grinned  back  at  us  in  his  hour  of  triumph— 
A  freckled,  fierce,  loose  lipped  satyr — 
Take  off  our  hats  to  add  state  to  his  e»it. 
"All  in!" 

Not  on  your  life,  Bobl 
You  have  fought  your  last  battle, 
But  it  was  the  last  of  many. 
And  though  lost,  was  not  without  glory. 
Step  up  to  your  place  with  the  Immortals 
And  live  long  to  awe  the  youngsters 
With  the  tales  of  your  prowess. 


[57] 


DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE 

[From  Aguilar] 

I'!£dT!"°v7'    Come,  recline  with  .. 
And  laz.ly  this  fragant  afternoon 

We  11  weigh  the  idle  theme.    I  often  think, 

U  with  protean  versatility 

J  might  luxuriously  loaf  my  days 

I  would  no  longer  quarrel  with  the  powers 

Jorl^K '""''■    ^-"W°- be  a  man, 
Nor  god   nor  beast,  nor  bird,  nor  anything; 
Yet  each  whene'er  I  listed. 

A„ J  ,  ^  would  rise 

And,  as  an  eagle,  float  in  circles  slow. 
That  swing  too  wide  and  high  for  mortal  ken, 
Or  as  a  flesh-gorged  leopard,  in  the  sun 
Bask  by  a  rocky  den,  or  as  a  god 
Of  some  hushed  sea  lie  sweltering  on  the  sand. 
Wh.le  crawled  the  servile  waves  to  kiss  my  feel. 
Yet  with  environment  I  would  not  keep 
btnct  correspondence,  but  with  every  whim 
Would  loll  where'er,  whene'er  I  pjse^  ^ 

With  hands  beneath  my  head,  with  careless  eyes 

Explonng  the  vasty,  vaulted  heavens,  I'd  munch 

[S8] 


DOLCE  FAR  NIENTE 

The  rustic  straw,  or  in  the  fatted  form 
Of  some  church-going  citizen  would  yawn 
While  Hermes  or  Apollo  spake. 

Again 
Like  that  famed,  errant  Babylonian  king, 
In  horn-deep  pastures  I  would  graze  and  stray; 
And  under  odorous,  knoll-crowning  trees 
At  noonday  ruminate  the  leisurely  cud. 
When  all  aweary  of  each  languorous  change 
I  longed  for  sleep,  with  drooping  wings  I'd  sink 
Adown  the  ether  till  some  gloom  I  found. 
Where  cool  and  mornless  night  would  woo  my  soul 
To  dreamless  rest.    When  I  awakeu  again 
Some  newer  charm  of  indolence  I'd  find. 
Ah,  friend,  for  living  life  has  little  worth- 
But  for  such  loafingl    Let  us  dream  of  it.  7 


[59] 


MAN 


[From  Aguilar] 
LIE  marks  his  shadow  in  the  sun, 

*         H"  form  is  fair,  his  dream  is  proud; 
But  shadow,  form,  and  dream  are  one 
And  vanish  lilce  an  empty  cloud. 

The  graven  cliffs  have  crumbled  down, 
The  temples  worn  to  drifting  sand; 

His  deeds  with  fame  he  could  not  crown 
With  all  the  cunning  of  his  hand. 

The  idle  and  forgetful  air 

Has  heard  his  boast,  has  borne  his  woe; 
The  mght  has  seen  his  cities  flare 

And  holds  no  gleam  their  place  to  show. 

Within  this  crystal  sphere  of  light. 
Where  soaring  constellations  flame, 

He  has  no  skill  his  deeds  to  write 
And  has  no  art  to  show  his  fame. 

On  things  of  Time  alone  can  man 
For  years  of  Time  record  his  pride; 

On  nothing  of  eternal  span 
Will  aught  that  he  has  sealed  abide 
[60] 


TO  D.  A.  MACKELLAR 

[In  Dedication  of  Aguilar] 

j^Y  cherished  dead,  when  last  your  placid  brow 

I  saw  through  tears  and  ne'er  on  earth  again. 
With  trembling  lips  I  made  a  hcly  vow 

To  show  our  love  in  a  remembered  strain. 
In  self-defeated  discord  of  the  streets 

Where  life  had  called  us  when  our  hearts  were 
strong. 
Where  friend  a  friend  so  true  but  seldom  greets, 

I  heard  a  voice  of  unrecorded  song. 
With  such  poor  means  as  are  by  nature  mine 

And  faith  that  raised  me  from  despairing  gloom. 
Today  I  come  as  to  a  sacred  shrine 

And  lay  this  tribute  on  your  lowly  tomb. 
And  plead,  if  any  question  or  admire 
The  living  do  but  what  the  dead  inspire. 


[6.: 


SILENCE 


I 


T°?^l^°  '•"""e"'   ^-ned  tempIe-hjIU,  where 

Had  dwelt  with  Havoc,  eager  searchers  found. 
W„h  shattered  idols  that  bestrewed  the  ground 
An  image  strange,  of  lineaments  sublime. 
No  god  was  he  of  rapine  or  of  crime; 
With  ample  brow,  his  brooding  face  was  crowned; 
But  lips  and  eyes  were  curiotisly  bound 
With  golden  circlets  hoar  with  ageless  grime. 

One  who  was  skilled  in  runes  the  gravings  read, 
And  learned  the  wondrous  image  was  the  god 
Of  endless  Silence.    The  searchers  mutel/bowed, 

And  mourned  that  faith  so  lofty  should  be  dead; 
And  I  their  prone  idolatry  applaud 
When  strife  and  tumult  in  my  paths  are  loud. 


[62] 


SILENCE 


II 

D  EYOND  the  search  of  sun  or  wandering  star, 
*-'    In  that  deep  cincture  of  eternal  night 

That  shrouds  and  stays  this  orbed  flare  of  light 
Where  many  a  god  hath  wheeled  his  griding  car, 
Silence  is  brooding,  patient  and  afar. 
Secure  and  steadfast  in  his  primal  right, 
Reconquering  slowly,  with  resistless  might. 
Dominions  lost  in  immemorial  war. 
The  thronged  suns  are  paling  to  their  doom, 
The  constellations  waver,  and  a  breath 
Shall  blur  them  all  into  eternity; 
Then  Ancient  Silence  in  oblivious  gloom 
Shall  reign— where  holds  this  dream  of  Time  and 

Death 
Like  some  brief  bubble  in  a  shoreless  sea. 


[63] 


THE  SALT  MARSHES 

T^HERE  wa»  a  light  upon  the  sea  that  made 

*       Familiar  things  mysterious,  which  to  teach, 
With  inarticulate,  alluring  speech. 
The  living  wind  with  lisping  tongue  essayed. 
O'er  sand  and  weed  and  spongy  moss  I  strayed 
And  lifeless,  orient  shells,  musing  on  each; 
While  casring  nets  with  ever  wider  reach 
A  fisher  plied  his  immemorial  trade. 
A  sea-bird  winged  the  aerial  solitude 
Searching  the  deep  for  his  appointed  dole, 
Where  his  wide-wandering  flocks  the  ocean  feeds; 
And  with  the  day's  full  orbed  strength  indued. 
At  one  with  all,  by  all  illumed,  my  soul 
Pulsed  to  the  rhythmus  of  immortal  deeds. 


[«♦] 


